


Interdepartmental Briefs

by krikkiter68



Category: The Thick Of It, Yes Minister
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, BDSM, Crossover, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Femdom, Het, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Slash, Threesomes, do not host works on unofficial apps, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkiter68/pseuds/krikkiter68
Summary: Two departments collide, and Bernard in particular is never going to see the world in quite the same way again.
Comments: 40
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Bernard Woolley hurried through the rain towards DoSAC’s offices, briefcase in one hand and his beloved monogrammed DAA umbrella in the other. The PM had been involved in some frankly dreadful gaffe or other – he wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, Sir Humphrey had launched into an explanation that took so long Bernard had to leave in the middle of it – and now he’d been tasked with tipping off the notorious Director of Communications for Her Majesty’s Government, Mr Malcolm Tucker. The man who’d once made Sir Arnold cry. Great, Bernard thought unhappily.

A taxi skidded around the corner and through a huge puddle, drenching Bernard from head to foot in chilly, dirt-coloured London rainwater. Just at that moment, his Blackberry started ringing in the inside pocket of his fawn mackintosh, and he was obliged to transfer both his brolly and his briefcase to his left hand in order to answer it. Jim Hacker’s number showed on the screen. Gosh, thought Bernard as he set to work on the buttons, these things are awfully fiddly. 

“Yes, Minister?”

“Ahh, Bernard,” Jim answered, in the tone of a man sitting contentedly in a nice warm, dry office, “thought you might like an update on the current situation?”

“Yes, I’d appreciate that, thank you, Minister,” Bernard said, keeping a careful eye on the pavement in front of him as he walked. His shoes had filled up with water.

“Basically, the PM was coming home from a party, a bit sloshed, and once he got there he fell out of the taxi, head-first. It’s not the sort of thing we want getting out, understand?”

“Perfectly, Minister,” Bernard said, swerving to avoid a gaggle of tourists and a husky. 

“Because as I’m sure you’re aware the press would have a field-day with this. Particularly coming on the back of the latest “Don’t Drink and Drive” campaign.”

“Well, strictly speaking, Minister, he was being driven, rather than actually driving, so…”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Bernard, but the press aren’t known for their fine distinctions, now, are they? You’ll need to speak to Mr Tucker. Or his Senior Press Officer. Though I ought to warn you, that man’s worse than Tucker.”

Jim heard a small yelp down the phone, and his brow creased with concern. 

“Are you all right, Bernard?” he asked.

“Y-yes, Minister,” Bernard said in a small whimper, “I just walked into a lamp-post, that’s all.”

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Bernard took a deep breath, then started walking up the endless stairs at DoSAC’s headquarters. Halfway up, a lilac-suited blonde woman paused in her clattering headlong flight downwards and stared at him.

“Hello?” she said. “I’m Robyn Murdoch. Are you part of the Quiet Womble delegation?”

“I’m – I’m sorry?” Bernard said. Wombles? he thought. They haven’t been on TV for years. Which one would I be? Wellington, probably.

“Sorry, sorry. I mean, the Quiet Batpeople volunteers? The meeting started half an hour ago, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Oh no, sorry. I’m not due in a meeting. I’m here to see Malcolm Tucker. I’m the Principal Private Secretary to Jim Hacker MP.”

Bernard pointed diffidently to his name-badge. Robyn’s large, startled eyes grew round with horror, and he felt instantly guilty. 

“Oh. Oh! Straight up the stairs, right, then left. Then right again. And another left. I think. Good luck,” she said, laughing nervously, “you’re gonna need it.”

She rushed off without looking back. Bernard’s heart sank.

Five minutes later, he was standing in front of an oak door. Bernard studied the laminated sign affixed to it, which bore the words:

“Do not disturb unless World War Fucking Three breaks out.

This particularly applies to YOU, Poxbridge.

By Order

Malcolm F. Tucker, Esquire.”

Bernard took another deep breath, straightened his back, and turned the handle.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

He pushed the door open and stopped dead at the sight before him: the notorious Director of Communications and his feared Senior Press Officer, jackets off and ties loosened, locked in a fierce embrace and, not to put too fine a point on it, snogging for Britain. Malcolm’s hand was fisted in the younger man’s black curls, pulling, as the latter slid a hand down his torso. Bernard could hear their harsh breathing in the still air, and hardly noticed as his briefcase slid through his grip and landed on the carpet. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

“Wait a second, darlin’,” Malcolm intoned, between kisses, “we’ve got fuckin’ company.”

As one, they turned their heads and stared at Bernard. Neither man seemed in the least surprised to see him. Bernard wondered briefly if he was dreaming the sort of dream you only get after eating too much Brie. Then Jamie’s lush lips parted in a soft sort of pout-snarl, and he realised, with consternation, that a certain part of him was taking quite a keen interest in the proceedings. Not a dream, then, he thought, his neck prickling.

“Fuckin’ rude of ya, walkin’ in like that,” Jamie snapped.

“I’m, I’m most awfully sorry,” Bernard squeaked. “It’s terribly urgent. I have something to tell Mr Tucker.”

Malcolm stood and studied him, his head on one side, a sideways smirk playing across his features. Handsome devil, Bernard thought, helplessly. He could almost see small horns emerging from Malcolm’s close-cropped curls. And then Malcolm beckoned to him.

“Come here,” Malcolm intoned.

Bernard walked forward, Jamie’s huge, blazing blue eyes on him all the while. Malcolm stepped towards him. The two of them were almost close enough to touch, and Bernard could feel heat radiating from the other man’s body. Terrified, and desperately aroused, he began to speak.

“It’s, it’s the PM. He, he got a bit, well, squiffy, shall we say, and had a mishap. As a matter of fact, he, he fell out of a taxi. When it was parked, I mean. Not moving, that would have been awful. We, we can’t let the press get hold of it. And, well, that’s the message, really.”

Malcolm leaned in, his lips almost touching the shell of Bernard’s right ear.

“I knooooow,” he husked, and Bernard’s heart fluttered, despite himself: Malcolm really had an awfully sexy voice.

“An’ ye want tae know why he knows, eh?” Jamie barked.

“Because, sweetheart, I AM the fuckin’ press,” Malcolm murmured. 

Bernard closed his eyes as he felt Malcolm’s tongue stroking over his ear. It was heavenly. He wondered what else Malcolm could do with his mouth, and almost laughed at the resulting depravity in his mind. His thoughts were interrupted when Malcolm grabbed his tie and kissed him, hard. Jamie grabbed hold of the two of them, and Bernard could feel his erection pressing against his thigh.

“See? Nae need tae look so terrified, ya wee bunny rabbit,” Jamie murmured in a strangely tender tone, “we won’t fuckin’ hurt ye. Though I ken fuckin’ toffs like yerself like corporal punishment.”

Malcolm broke away, allowing Jamie to step in and roughly kiss their new plaything.

“But, perhaps not on the first fuckin’ date, eh? OK, Jamie, that’s enough now.”

Jamie stepped back, looking slightly disappointed as Malcolm stepped into Bernard’s personal space once more, ghosting a palm over his tented trousers. 

“Want it? Say if ye’d rather not an’ we’ll leave ye alone.”

“Oh God,” Bernard replied. “Please…”

Malcolm laughed.

“Fuckin’ thought so.”

Bernard’s knees almost buckled as, with lightning speed, his trousers were unzipped and a long, surprisingly soft hand delved into his pants and released him. Malcolm held his cock in a sure grip, his hand sliding smoothly back and forth. Bernard leaned back against him and bucked into his touch, shamelessly.

“Hey, Jamie?” he heard Malcolm say.

“Aye?” Jamie said, watching the two of them, hand straying to his own tented crotch.

“Feelin’ hungry at all?”

Jamie grinned like a wolf.

“Fuck, yeah,” he responded.

Jamie knelt in front of Bernard, and the latter gasped as he felt Jamie lick around the head of his cock. Somehow, the fact that they were playing with him for their own gratification made him even harder. Jamie held his hips in a grip hard enough to bruise. Bernard felt his heart hammering as Malcolm’s hand stroked faster and cried out as he felt Jamie’s lips close around his cock. He grabbed hold of Jamie’s head, never wanting to lose him, going faster and faster. Oh God, he thought, going over the rapids, now…

Bernard let out a loud groan as he came, feeling Jamie swallow around him, the two of them holding him firmly as he rode out the aftershocks. He leaned heavily against Malcolm, tired out, as Jamie released him and the two of them tucked his cock back inside his clothes.

“That…that was marvellous…” he murmured.

“Aw, think nothin’ of it,” Jamie said as he stood up.

Bernard stood upright, rather unsteadily, and retrieved his briefcase from the floor.

“Good day to you, gentlemen,” he said, as he left Malcolm’s office. As the door closed behind him, he saw them embrace and kiss once more.

Well, he thought, as he walked back down the corridor, that certainly went better than I was expecting.


	4. Chapter 4

Sir Humphrey Appleby sipped the remainder of his tea and smiled at Terri.

“Excellent tea, by the way. And rather wonderful biscuits.”

“They’re good, aren’t they? They’re part of Julius Nicholson’s secret stash in the pantry.”

“Ah, dear Julius. I haven’t seen him since Glyndebourne. Do give him my very kindest regards. Well, my dear, I really should be going,” Sir Humphrey said, placing his delicate china cup on the table and standing.

“Thanks for dropping by, Sir Humphrey,” Terri said. “Was there anything else?”

Sir Humphrey raised his hand in a gracious gesture.

“There’s no need to call me Sir, dear lady. Do please call me Humphrey. Ah, yes. The young man from DoSAC who’s joining us on a week’s secondment? Mr Oliver Reeder?”

“Yes?” Terri said, cautiously.

“What is your opinion of that young man?” Sir Humphrey said. “Would you describe him as being, shall we say, sound?”

“We…have a good working relationship,” Terri said, her face giving away the startling amount of loathing she felt for Ollie. Sir Humphrey raised an amused eyebrow and she laughed, embarrassed.

“Well, actually, to tell you the truth, Humphrey, I think he’s a bit of a moral vacuum. Though, of course, he does have a lot of excellent qualities.”

Sir Humphrey smiled.

“Is that so? Well, goodbye, dear lady. It’s been a most enlightening afternoon.”

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Ollie, feet resting on a nearby desk, leaned further back in one of the comfortable brown leather armchairs festooning the room and snorted with laughter.

“Christ, she didn’t try and fail to do the walk again, did she? Mind you, she’s hypercompetent compared to the guy they’ve got here.”

“Jim Hacker?” Glenn said, down the phone.

“That’s the one. Well, it wasn’t going so badly,” Ollie said, pausing briefly to munch on a half-eaten, slightly stale ham baguette, “until someone ambushed him with a question about the trade deal. Something to do with the rebranding of the British sausage, fuck knows what that’s about. He looked like he was going to cry.”

“Did he do the smile?”

“The one that looks like he’s just been harpooned in the back? Yeah. What a fucking idiot…” Ollie said, as the door swung open.

“Hang on,” Glenn’s voice sounded, just about audible in the still air of the room, “you’re not actually in their office, are you? Because if you are…”

“…I’ll call you back,” Ollie said, as he hastily turned off the phone. Sir Humphrey stood in the doorway, looking like the wrath of God.

Back at DoSAC, Glenn stared at the phone receiver as the tone went dead. Silly fucker, he thought.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Sir Humphrey glared at Ollie, who gulped in terror. Such insolence, he thought. God knows Hacker can, on occasion, be a damned fool. Nevertheless, on such occasions, he’s still my damned fool.

“May I remind you, young man,” Sir Humphrey snapped, “that this happens to be a Government office, and you will refer to everyone who works within its confines with all due and appropriate respect?”

“I’m sorry, Sir Humphrey, I was only…” Ollie started.

“And that chair you are so carelessly lounging, and, fact, eating in, just so happens to be a Chesterfield? This is a place of work and not, if I may dare to suggest such a thing, a bordello. Stand up,” Sir Humphrey intoned.

Ollie clambered off the chair and stood, eyes fixed on the ceiling as Sir Humphrey started circling. He’s distressingly devoid of manners, Sir Humphrey thought, as he surveyed Ollie from all angles. Still, credit where credit’s due, he appears to know how to obey an order. He stood in front of Ollie.

“You’ve disappointed me, Oliver,” he murmured.

“I know, Sir,” Ollie responded, shame-faced.

“Sir Humphrey,” Sir Humphrey corrected. 

“Yes, Sir,” Ollie responded, the last word trailing off into a squeak.

Sir Humphrey frowned briefly. Was this some sort of a game the young man was playing? He knew Oliver Reeder had something of a taste for interdepartmental relations, as Hacker had once rather amusingly called it. What with his dalliances with the young lady from the Mail and the Messinger woman in Opposition and, so rumour had it, Dan Miller MP…

He glanced downwards, and…oh. His other suspicion was quite correct. Oliver was, not to put too fine a point on it, very conspicuously aroused in response to his dominating behaviour. Sir Humphrey wondered if he should make his excuses and leave, and then Ollie’s reddened lips parted in a breathy little gasp, and he found himself transfixed.

He reached out, trailing the fingers of his right hand across Ollie’s cheekbone and down further, stroking across the young man’s lips. Ollie’s lips parted, allowing Sir Humphrey to gently push his index finger and middle fingers inside his warm, wet, yielding mouth. Ollie’s lips closed around his fingers, tongue stroking, and a familiar tingle skittered up Sir Humphrey’s spine. It was an intensely erotic image, and within seconds he’d felt his member standing firmly to attention.

He withdrew his fingers from Ollie’s mouth, wiping them on the younger man’s cheek, and felt himself grinning at Ollie’s dazed, pleading expression.

“Now, Oliver,” he said, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson?”

Ollie shook his head.

“I see. How disappointing. Perhaps there’s another pressing matter you’d like to attend to?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ollie gasped.

“I see. Well, perhaps if you’d like to kneel in front of me, there’s a good chap?” Sir Humphrey said.

Ollie knelt in front of him, gazing up at him expectantly. Sir Humphrey slowly unzipped his trousers, heart hammering at the sight of Ollie licking his lips as he took himself in hand.

“I’m sure you know what to do with this, don’t you?” Sir Humphrey murmured.

“Yes, Sir,” Ollie whispered, reaching out with tentative fingers to touch the cock in front of him.

“Then do it.”

Sir Humphrey closed his eyes in bliss as he felt warm, wet lips encircling him. He clasped the back of Ollie’s head, fingers gripping soft, dark curls as Ollie took the length of him straight down his throat. 

He opened his eyes again and found himself transfixed by the sight of those reddened lips closed around his cock. Ollie was gazing up at him in near-adoration, and Sir Humphrey dared a firm thrust into the younger man’s throat, earning a strangled squeal, followed by a groan. For a moment, he worried that he’d hurt him, and then realised why he’d groaned.

“You like this, don’t you?” Sir Humphrey murmured. “On your knees, servicing people? Most satisfying, isn’t it?”

Ollie murmured something against Sir Humphrey’s cock in response. Sir Humphrey seized Ollie’s curls in a firm grip, holding him still as he thrust hard inside that wanton mouth, pulling out nearly all the way before plunging back in, over and over again, faster and faster, until fireworks burst inside him and he came down Ollie’s throat in huge, aching spurts, groaning aloud as he felt Ollie swallow around him. 

He withdrew and leaned back against the table, out of breath, zipping himself back up. Ollie was still gazing up at him, mouth opened and gasping, hair mussed, a huge erection tenting his black trousers, and Sir Humphrey found it impossible not to smile at him.

“Here,” he said, taking a sheaf of tabloids from the table and placing them on the floor. “Relieve yourself on those, why don’t you?”

He watched as Ollie immediately unzipped himself, pushing his trousers and pants down to his thighs and took his long, desperately hard and reddened cock in hand, jerking it almost alarmingly hard, until he groaned and spurted over photographs of both a Peer of the Realm and a large pair of breasts. 

He collapsed, gasping. Sir Humphrey gazed dispassionately at him.

“Oh, and Oliver?”

“…Yes, Sir Humphrey?”

“Clear up this mess and get out, there’s a good chap. Until the next time.”


	7. Chapter 7

“So what happened?” Helen said, her thumb and forefinger sliding up and down the stem of her wine glass in what Bernard found to be a most distracting fashion.

“Ah,” Bernard said, “she…said I wasn’t dynamic enough for her. Actually, she said I was too boring. And…” he started, his eyes downcast.

“Yes? Go on?”

“…too fat,” Bernard said. 

Helen’s perfect eyebrows lowered themselves into a frown.

“Really? You don’t look overweight to me.”

“She had a point,” Bernard said, sadly. “I’m not exactly – oh, what is the modern idiom? – ripped. To be honest, I never thought anyone would want me. I’m surprised she stayed as long as she did, to be honest.”

He started slightly as he felt her stockinged foot stroking up his shin. She smiled, and leaned forward.

“I’m going to the bar. This one’s on me,” she murmured.

Two nights later

“Too tight?” she said softly.

Bernard cautiously tugged at the crimson silk scarves that bound his wrists to the brass bars of the hotel bed. They were as comfortable as his own shirt cuffs, yet soft and voluptuous.

“They’re just right,” he murmured. She smiled.

“Good,” she whispered, and clambered up onto the king-size bed. Bernard’s heart started hammering as he saw her properly. The richness of her black hair and pearly white skin was perfectly set off by her crimson silk lingerie. Each time she moved, he could hear it rustling slightly against her skin. Stockings, too, he thought, happily. He hadn’t seen those for ages. 

She gazed at him with a mixture of lust and fondness. Her nipples were peaked under the silky fabric of her bra and her own, specific musk was detectable beneath the top notes of her perfume. His nostrils were full of her and his cock was hard against his stomach. He smiled back at her, hoping this wasn’t just a dream and he’d wake alone in his own bed.

“I’m going to kiss you all over,” she murmured. “I’m going to show you that you’re attractive. Would you like that?”

“…Yes,” he managed, in a gasp.

She straddled him and kissed him, her tongue softly wrestling with his. He felt bereft when her mouth eventually left his, then gasped as she kissed, then started biting at his neck. He’d have to wear his collar up at work for the next few days, but he found it impossible to care right at that moment.

Moving down, she kissed his collarbone, moving down over his chest, her hand moving in gentle circles. He winced slightly when she stroked over his rounded belly and craned his neck to look at her. She was smiling down at him, and he realised with delight that she genuinely liked his body.

“You’re beautiful, Bernard,” she whispered.

“You too…ahhhh!” he gasped, as she took hold of his cock in her soft, pale right hand. She caressed him slowly, lovingly, silk holding silk coating steel. He moaned shamelessly, bucking up into her grasp. Eventually, when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, she straddled him once more and guided him inside.

Bernard gazed up at her, awestruck, as she rode him, surrounding and squeezing him with her perfect warm, wet softness. He’d always liked to be controlled but he’d never been dominated with such gentleness. Her eyes were closed in bliss as she rocked back onto her heels, and he could see where she closed around him. He was shaking, holding on for her sake, watching as she reached down with her right hand and stroked herself, stroked his cock where he fit inside her, and he was lost. She rippled around him, gasping, her face ecstatic, and he cried out as he streamed inside her.

Then he felt his wrists being untied, and a duvet draped over him. Tiredness overwhelmed him as he felt her clamber in beside him. She cradled his head against her breasts and held him close.

“Now do you believe me?” she murmured, rocking him.

“Mmm,” Bernard said, smiling foolishly. “I do. Thank you.”


End file.
